Storytime with Flynn Rider
by CatBru
Summary: Tales told by Flynn Rider, ranging from the hysterical to the morose.
1. The Widower King

Well, I roleplay Flynn Rider on Tumblr as gottagetmeoneofthese. I haven't gotten any yet, but I hope to get drabble prompts from people. This one came to me because I wondered how Flynn would react to a certain situation. Then he told me a story.

I do plan on posting more stories on this, especially if they are 1000 words or less.

**Disclaimer:**Much as I would like to, I own neither Tangled or any of the characters. After reading this, you'll be glad.

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**The Widower King**

"_I don't know how to be Eugene without you."_

"_Then be Eugene for her."_

The kingdom knew this was a day of celebration. For awhile they thought it would never happen. Their king had a strict set of requirements that no one had ever been able to figure out. Princes were turned away, noble sons not allowed past the front gate.

It was not until it was revealed that the princess had been meeting the stable boy in secret that they understood. Their king was not looking for an alliance or more land, but a certain look on his daughter's face when she was around someone.

So the kingdom was introduced to their future king who held no titles or land but held a nobility that none of those could give. When they saw how their princess looked at him, they accepted. After all, their current king used to be the most wanted thief around.

They could not help but wonder, as they made last minute preparations that could not be done before now, how the king would be today. After their queen left, he had become increasingly irreverent. He would use wit and sarcasm that bit into the pride of visiting dignitaries then smooth ruffled feathers with undeniable charm. He was as different as he had been when his posters were nailed to trees and posts.

He was this way with everyone. Everyone but the princess. With her around, he was the king they remembered. But she could not be around all the time.

The only other time people caught glimpses of his true self were on what was known as the Anniversary. It was not the queen's birthday, where they still sent lanterns in remembrance, or the day they got married.

On the Anniversary, no one complained they did not see him. Or how when they did he was barely able to hold himself together, even so many years after the event. Or how, when he visited the marble statue that stood above the others in the cemetery, he would sometimes hold his arms tight around his stomach as he doubled over. Sometimes they could almost hear his silent scream.

The question would not linger long in their minds, especially not when the princess entered the cathedral, her eyes only on the young man waiting for her.

"Father?" The new bride opened the king's chamber door. "You left early."

He was dressed in shadow. "Sorry. Just tired."

She walked to his chair and knelt beside his knee, as she had done since childhood. Even when he was busy he would gently smooth her hair as he did now. And she knew, when he looked at her as he did now, he saw a mother she barely remembered. She was happy to give him that, the remembrance that the queen had really existed, and happy to know that even when he looked at her like this he still saw her and not just a ghost.

"Will he make you happy?"

The princess blinked at the sudden question. "Of course. You know he will."

"And he'll take care of you, right? Just as well as you'll take care of him?" His tone grew desperate even as his hand remained gentle. "Is he your dream?"

"Yes, he is." She was five years old again, watching her mother breathe her last, and she did not know why she suddenly remembered that after all these years.

"Good." He was silent for a moment. "I had one thing in life. One thing I wanted to do. One thing I _promised._ And you never break promises. And it's been so hard, but you were there. And I've been tired, so tired, and I haven't dreamed in years. I just want to sleep."

His cheeks were dry when he looked up at her but hers were not. "Can I go to sleep now? I just want to go home."

She could not speak but nodded as she stood. She had not been in her father's lap since she was ten and cried in his arms about how the other children treated her so different. Now, though she was still the one crying, it was her to give him comfort in a sea of silk and lace. "Yes, Daddy. You can sleep."

The next day introduced Corona to their new king and queen as the last of the former was lowered beneath the soil.


	2. The Treasure Chest

Flynn Rider here once again with another story. Cat is not in a pathetic mess of uncontrollable sobs this time. That's only because she threatened me with sharp implements if I did not tell her something happy. And this is happy and sappy, so I get to live another day.

However, since this story is told better through Rapunzel's (runningracingdancingchasing on Tumblr) point of view, I had to consult with her before I was able to properly convey it to Cat.

Set a couple months after Tangled. I say the only warning I have is that I am a man in love here.

**Disclaimer:** Still own nothing.

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**The Treasure Chest**

Six months of being a princess and Rapunzel still felt so new to the world. Well, six months, one week, and two days. Keeping count of days due to boredom was a habit she still had not broken.

It was not all bad. For instance, she knew that it had been six hours and seventeen minutes since she last saw Eugene at breakfast. She also knew that it would be two hours, give or take, before she saw him at dinner. It was not fun, because his birthday was today and they still had to do their stuff and they could not stop even though, for her, it was a special day.

It was harder to estimate the future than it was the past. Before moving out of the tower she never realized no one else was as meticulous at time keeping as she was.

It got to the point that Rapunzel could tell she was annoying everyone when she repeatedly asked for the time. She was used to always having a constant view of the clock. They would all answer, of course, in deference to the tiara on her head, but she never missed the mild irritation that eventually grew in their eyes.

She could never tell if Eugene was growing annoyed. He would search around for a clock and if he found one would recite the time. If he could not he would apologize. It did not matter if she asked two hours or thirty seconds ago, his response was always the same before seamlessly returning to their conversation or stolen kisses.

Still, worry ate at her. She could take that look from maids and stable boys and even that one visiting duchess. From him, she doubted it would be nice at all. So she tried to stop asking. She succeeded for the most part, but sometimes half of it would slip out. Even with the rest unsaid, he would dutifully repeat his normal routine.

One day, as the question nearly slipped out again, he handed her box. It was plain and not covered in satin, but it was pretty. "What's this?"

"Just open it." He found a loose string on his slacks and picked at it.

Inside was a pocket watch. While it was obvious even to her that it was well put together, she was glad it was not incredibly ornate as some others she had seen. The overlaying patterns of blue and green formed a flower of diamonds. "Eugene."

"I didn't steal it, in case you were wondering!"

She looked over at him and laughed while she shook her head. "I wasn't! I was just wondering...why?"

He shifted and found the pattern on the small sofa they were sitting on very much in need of intense study. "You just seemed like you didn't want to ask the time anymore. Well, you did, but you didn't want to. So I figured you could always have it with you. Time. If it was a stupid idea, I'm sorry."

She pressed the latch and the lid sprung open. It was secure, but not so tight that it would be hard to open. "Are you kidding? I love it!"

She looked it over, describing what she loved about it. This was pretty much everything. When she looked over at him again, she paused. "_Eugene! _Are you blushing?"

"No, of course not!"

She leaned up and peppered his cheek with a slew of kisses. He rarely ever blushed, and never in public. She loved that he let his guard down, just as she loved her gift. "I am going to take it everywhere. And I never have to ask people, and they won't be annoyed all the time, and it's so pretty. Thank you so much."

He laughed and pulled her close with one arm before pressing warm lips to her forehead. Her eyes slid close as she hummed in contentment. At first she would flinch away, remembering cold lips against blonde hair kissing the only thing a fake mother loved about her. Slowly she realized that Eugene was kissing the only thing he loved about her when he did this, expressing in one simple action everything he rarely spoke out loud. He loved everything.

Since then, she brought him little presents from her trips beyond the palace. He usually was not able to attend. Apparently it was just Not Done for someone in the royal palace to just mope about the castle when she was not around. So her father, and she still tingled at the thought of being able to use that word, had given Eugene a position in the palace that just screamed with juxtaposition.

The Captain of the Guard's face still turned interesting shades of red when he had to train his former prey on the fine arts of guarding. Of course, Eugene's continual jabs did not help matters and were usually along the lines of "But I am your protege! Teach me, oh master, how to not catch thieves!"

Rapunzel missed him while he was training, and hoped he missed her, as well. So she would bring him things from her travels, because he had been thoughtful with the watch and she wanted him to know she thought of him, as well.

Sometimes they were good gifts. She would pick out a book she thought he would like or knit him socks during the carriage ride. One time she bought exotic fruit seeds so they could plant them together and he could have some of the exotic fruit he had always wanted to try. It was hard coming up with practical items, though. When he needed new boots, a new pair was given. He had clothes. He did not need daggers or rope.

So she'd bring him the impractical. Silly little things to let him know he was never far from her mind. Once it was a semiprecious stone she saw at a market two kingdoms over. It was the exact shade of his eyes by a campfire. So she bought it. Another time it was an old, rusted nail from the blacksmith in town that she thought matched the shape of Eugene's nose. So she asked if she could have it.

Over the weeks she had been giving him these things, and each time he would take whatever it was, hold it in the palm of his hand as he lightly stroked it. All he ever said was "Thank you." And that was okay, because she could tell he was being sincere and he liked it and could see the twinkle in his eyes that had been there with the boat and the lanterns, but that did not stop the feeling she got when she showed him what she brought, that it was stupid and useless and she should never had even brought it. After all, he had fancy cufflinks and pinkie rings and all sorts of other stuff.

One day she did not give him her gift right away. She wondered how he would react if she did not. He said nothing and continued on as usual. Then the guilt ate her because she _always_ brought him something so she gave it to him after dinner. He had the same look on his face as he once again held it and stroked it and thanked her.

When she found out about his upcoming birthday a few weeks ago, she asked what he wanted. He had only shrugged and told her he already had what he wanted. She would have let it go, but he had shown her lanterns and adventure on her last birthday.

Finally he relented. "Okay, I want a box."

"A box?"

"Yeah, you know. Like a pirate's chest." He held out his hands a little in the pantomime of a box. "A box, a lid, and maybe even a lock so I can keep my treasure safe."

In the end she found a box that would be perfect but it was plain so she painted it. She hoped he would like it.

And, here, away from the kingdom and visiting dignitaries and people who spoke in monotone, she found a bookstore. It was on a whim she went inside. He already had plenty of books, but she tried to keep her eye out for a certain one.

A few minutes later she left, her eyes wide as she clutched the wrapped book to her chest. She had found it. And even if he thought her painted chest was stupid, he would _love_ this one.

Rapunzel was antsy all the way home. She was distracted through dinner. The only time she stopped fidgeting was when Eugene would place a discrete hand on her knee to silently as if she was alright. She smiled at him and calmed for a moment before she remembered the source of her unease. Then she would fidget some more.

They were one the way to his room when she realized she had to go get his gifts. So she left him with a peck and an apology and dashed away. She could feel his amused grin on her back and fought down a blush.

She returned to his room in a whirlwind of too many layers of skirt and clutched packages and only stopped to stare at him. He was sitting in his chair, elbow propped on his cluttered desk and face resting in his hand, looking at her with a broad grin.

Rapunzel returned it and practically skipped the rest of the distance between them. "Open this one first," she said. Then changed her mind. "No, this."

In the end, she handed him the chest first. He looked confused for a moment before she gave him a quick kiss. "Happy birthday!"

"That _is_ today, isn't it?" He slowly picked at the string until it loosened. He folded the paper aside just as meticulous. Then he stared at it and blinked, tracing a finger over the lid.

"I know you didn't ask for it painted, but it just looked so plain! I didn't really know what to put on it for awhile. Took me a couple days to figure it out. It's basically just a collage of us on those first few days. And on top, you finally get your island! I even have piles of money there, see? And there's you. And I figured it was okay if I was there, too, because being alone by yourself is lonely."

He continued to study it, running his fingers over the pastels. It did not fit in his room, she realized. Everything was dark woods and dark fabrics and dark drapes. The box was very much not. She really should have considered that.

Then he was moving. The box was suddenly in her arms again. "Hold that?"

He opened his drawer where he kept his cufflinks and pinkie rings and other trinkets. She thought he would take them out to put in the chest, but he just swept everything that was on top of the desk into the drawer, not caring it it was a precious stone or a quill. Then he reached for the box again, pausing to give her a small smile, before he set it on the clear surface.

He took a moment to position it, angling so it reached a certain spot and angle that only he knew. Then he bounded toward his bed and rifled through pillows and blankets until he found what he was looking for.

"Ah ha!" He clutched a pouch in his hand before he dashed back to the desk.

"Eugene, what are you doing?" She was grinning at his antics but had no clue what he was up to.

"I told you," he said as he sat down. "I need some place for my treasure."

He turned the tiny key in the tiny keyhole and opened the lid. Then he opened his pouch and placed the items inside, one by one, in the small compartments.

"But that's in your desk."

He gave her a look she never saw directed toward her. It said 'you're crazy and that's crazy.'

"That stuff is to make me look all princey or whatever they're shaping me into. This is much more precious. They're gifts, which I never get, and they're from you."

It wasn't until he said that as he took out a bent rusty nail that she realized what was in the pouch.

"But that's..." Rapunzel trailed off.

"Of course, what did you think it would be?" He gently placed the nail next to the stone. "I mean, normally I just hide them in my pillow. That way I can look at them and not worry they'll get taken. This way, I know they're secure."

She had given gifts to Gothel all her life, and the woman set them on display, fawning over them in an exaggerated display. Never once did she keep something hidden to look at on her own.

She was glad his lap was in shocked plopping distance. He took to placing the rest in with one hand, the other steadying her on his knee. The pastels of the box blurred together and she wondered when she had started crying or why.

"What's wrong?"

She choked on a laugh and shrugged as she wiped her eye. It was silly and stupid and she should not be crying like this.

He turned her chin with his thumb until she was looking at him.

"I love you." It was freely given on a breath with no expectations of being said back and he kissed her until her eyes were dry.

When she pulled away her cheeks ached and she could not stop smiling. She held up the second package. "There's one more."

He dutifully took it and unwrapped the parcel with the same meticulous care as before.

He stared at the book. It was obviously not new. The cover was worn, the gold lettering partially flaked off. But the words were unmistakable: _The Tales of Flynnigan Rider_. He ran his fingers reverently over the letters, his breath catching in his throat. "Blondie... where did you find this?" he breathed.

Rapunzel shrugged. "I kept an eye out for months. And I knew you were looking for it. I found it just today, if you can believe it! We were actually running a little late, but I just had to get it for you."

This time, his kiss was sudden and made her toes curl. When he pulled back he was grinning. "Best. Birthday. Ever."

She giggled and took the book in her hands. She saw how he had been just _describing_ what was in here, so happy and alive and very expressive. She wanted to see it full force.

"Eugene?" She held the book up and shyly bit her lip. "Read me a story?"

"Hell yeah." He took it back and opened to the very first page.


	3. The Time it Takes To Fall

Flynn Rider here! Another story for you guys. I was asked by Rapunzel what went through my head during the Firewood Scene, so I decided to tell Cat another story.

Contrary to popular belief, it takes longer than two minutes and twenty-two seconds for me to, ah, take care of personal business. Nope, that time was spent thinking of just about everything, including a realization that took awhile for me to place.

**Disclaimer:**I, Cat, own neither Flynn Rider nor Tangled. If I did, you would have been able to chew on the angst. Muahaha.

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**The Time It Takes To Fall**

Flynn Rider was used to hiding Eugene. It was a defense mechanism born before he had even taken the name of his childhood hero. People never liked poor sad little boys. They preferred someone with strength of will, so he had projected that aura to all around him.

_I like Eugene Fitzherbert much better than Flynn Rider._

Eugene shook his head as he picked up bits of firewood. The girl was crazy. She was insane. _No_ one liked Eugene. Not even him.

Still, he stared at his hand where he could still feel the tingles of her glowing hair. Okay, now was the perfect time for his delayed freak out. The firewood dropped from his arm as he leaned against a tree, gasping for air. _Her hair glows. It's magic. Real, honest to god magic!_

It took a couple seconds for him to recover. When he did, he gathered up the wood and his breath. He thought more about her hair. What else could it do? Turn his satchel back into a cow? Give his arm super strength? He snorted. Likely not. He'd still ask her, though, because if nothing else she would laugh. He wanted to hear her laugh again. It was a pretty laugh.

Why did he care so much about her laugh? Come to think of it, why had he even told her his name? Had it been anyone else, he would have taken it to his grave. With her, though, for some reason he had _wanted_ her to know who he was. Why? Up to that point, she had been an annoyance.

No. Well, yes, but that was not all. She embraced life as it came, quickly worked through fears, got people to reveal their deepest desire. She had learned of the ruffian's dreams and embraced them, encouraging them through acceptance alone. Was that why? Had he told her so that she could validate him somehow?

No. Well, yes, but that was not all. When she was crying, apologizing to him for their impending death when it was not even remotely her fault, calling him Flynn, he had not wanted her to go without knowing his name. Because her calling him Flynn had felt just wrong. In less than a day she had wiggled in him deeper than Flynn ran, and he wanted her to know that.

Then they had survived, damn it all, and she had taken his name and ran with it. It had taken him longer to respond because no one had called him Eugene in nearly a decade. She did, and refused to call him anything else. Then he told her his story, and she had laughed and looked at him and his heart had done a somersault. So he ran.

"No." A realization was dawning on him. "No no no no!" He dropped the wood again, braced against another tree. "This isn't happening!"

He hadn't told her his name for any of those reasons! Even then, he had been seeing her as something more than annoyance. It was a slow growth, something that still had not fully bloomed. He could not be, though! Flynn Rider never felt this way toward anyone!

_But Eugene does. And she likes Eugene._

Crap. Had she not said that, he could have forgotten about this. But her admission cemented the tiny sprout. It would blossom and grow and he'd become one of those pathetic and weak men who wrote sonnets and poems about her eyes and climbed mountains to get her a rare flower. Or maybe a pretty rock. One that glittered and changed colors.

He groaned and ran both hands through his hair before rubbing his face. Mouth covered, he glanced around the copse of trees. Were the squirrels going to take what he was about to say and spread the word to all their forest friends?

"I." He gulped. "Am falling in love."

Eugene bit his hand to muffle the terrified scream. Love always ended badly.

After a few more seconds of freaking out, even more than he had during the Great Hair Freak Out of Thirty Seconds Ago, he numbly picked up his fallen sticks.

_Okay. Okay okay okay. Act natural. You can do this._ Maybe if he acted like nothing was wrong, she would not notice. Maybe if he just went along as though his entire life _had not_ just been turned upside, she would not say anything. Admitting he was in love to _himself_ was one thing. Telling her and facing the inevitable rejection was another.

Arms full of sticks, he squared his shoulders and took a steadying breath. He would go on as though nothing had changed. He would stay the same. He would help her see the lanterns. He would take her home.

Then he would wallow in abject misery forever, and those poems and sonnets would be about a lost love. Or something.

That or he'd spend far too much time staring at her tower, wishing he could just go up and see her one last time.

With a sigh, he marched wooden legs back toward their campsite. Normal. Just act normal.

"So! Hey can I ask you something? Is there any chance that I'm going to get super strength in my hand? Because I'm not gonna lie, that would be stupendous."

Two minutes and twenty-two seconds. That's how long he had been gone, and that was how long it took for him to realize he was falling in love.


End file.
